


In the confinement

by BL_Arata



Category: Death Note
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Reality, Assault, Buried Alive, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, One Shot, Physical Abuse, Wordcount: 100, Wordcount: 100-1.000, Wordcount: 100-500, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-21 04:10:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1537019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BL_Arata/pseuds/BL_Arata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU/AR where shinigami's don't exist.<br/>I don't think this story needs an "E" rating,<br/>but if I'm wrong about that assumption, then feel free to correct me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the confinement

Dark. He couldn't see anything. The blindfold covering his caramel eyes preving him to distinguish between night and day.

Ho wore a muzzle between his lips, tightly bound in a knot at the end of his neck, preventing him to talk or shout or plead for help.

The rope with which his hands were bound behind his back cut deeply into his reddened wrists,

restricting his movement and rendered any escape attempt futile.

He didn't know how long he'd been kept a wounded animal in the dampened cell,

but he figured that enough time had passed for the state of Japan to declare him legally dead.

The seventeen year old boy cringed slightly as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching told him that  _they_ were back.

Like all the other days, they asked the same question. Like all the other days, he refused to answer.

With the blindfold covering his eyes he couldn't see the anticipated hand swoop down and strike him across his face.

The question was repeated, with the same result. Once more he was backhanded,

the strength of the slap powerful enough to flung his head sideways.

He was short of breath, and his cheek ached in pain. The voice repeated the question, demanding an answer. He refused to provide any.

His brain sent out a signal of scorching sensation as the tip of a butter knife cut into his skin, running down the side of his face.

A few drops of blood fell to the cemented floor, and then the voices left him to enjoy the solitude.

The young man sighed deeply and his head hung helplessly.

He had little to no strength left. It wouldn't take long before the voices belonging to his unknown assailants had managed to break him down.

It was just a matter of time.

 

They returned the next day, asking him the same question as the day before. He had no answer for them.

Tired of their "guest's" silence, one of the men shoved him backwards and he fell haplessly to the ground still tightly bound.

The same man that had shoved him took a tight grip of the neck of his shirt and removed his blindfold.

The muzzle still restricting his speech, prevented him from screaming as the man shoved his greasy fingers into his right eye and pulled back.

He shivered in shock and pain as the eyeball fell to the floor beside him and was squashed under the man's large foot.

The one eyed teen squirmed as his bloodstained face was backhanded by a firm hand.

He began to sob from the ghost pain of his missing right eye, and the punches landed onto his face as he refused to give in.

The man left him there, lying in a small pool of blood, all alone and in a world of pain.

He shivered slightly from the cold and couldn't do anything but wait for something to happen.

Almost a full day passed before the men were back with a large wooden object.

He squinted his lone eye, trying to understand what it was he was seeing. It was a coffin.

A spark of fear hit him and he began to sob once more, the muzzle gagging him preventing his pleading to be understandable.

The man closest to him said in a voice devoid of emotion, "Last chance kid, tell us what we want to know."

Gesturing towards the coffin, the man made the rest of his speech known; "or you'll die."

He felt scared, but he refused to give in to the demands. He just couldn't. The man shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Two of the men went over to him, dragging him up to his feet, while a third man opened the lid to the casket.

With little care, the men forced him to lie down inside the casket, and closed the lid, leaving him in total darkness.

He felt a strange sensation as the men lifted the casket and left the cell,

heading outside where a hole in the ground had been prepared for the occasion.

The men shoved the casket down into the hole and grabbed one shovel each, before covering the coffin with heaps of mud.

As soon as their work was done, they took off, leaving the boy to meet his fate on his own.

 

It wouldn't be long until he would run out of air. His nails dug into the wood as he clawed fervently at the lid of the casket.

A tingling sensation near his buttocks told him that he was close of having a panic attack.

It was the last thing he needed in his current predicament. He raised a tightened fist and hit the lid as hard as he could.

It hurt, his knuckles screamed in pain as his mind begged for him to stop. He ignored the feeling of pain and struck the lid once more.

His lone eye moistened in tears as he punched the lid barehanded over and over again.

When his hand was bruised and welted and specks of blood covered his face, Light Yagami gave up.

He wondered silently as he rested helplessly in the coffin, buried six foot deep into the ground, if his family would ever find his body.

Somehow, he doubted that. A tear ran silently down his face as he tiredly let his eyelids close.

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding the "plot" or whatever you may call it, well, basically Light had been kidnapped by the mafia.  
> As for what information they wanted out of him, let's just say that it involved his father's work.  
> Whether Light indeed does die or not, is more or less up to you readers.  
> I left it off where both outcomes would be plausible.


End file.
